


The Entanglement of Stars

by amixedwitch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bisexual Hermione Granger, Black Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy Redemption, Draco and Luna are cousins, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, First Love, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Narcissa Black Malfoy, M/M, Or at least references to Paganism, POV Alternating, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Paganism, Past James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Slow Romance, Surprise Pairing, this is gonna be a long story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29962119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amixedwitch/pseuds/amixedwitch
Summary: Harry Potter has always felt a certain magical pull towards Chara Vandever. Unbeknownst to him, she feels it too.Several witches and wizards of their past, present, and future discover that they also feel that pull to each other.The escape of Wizarding Prince Sirius Black from Azkaban, the First Wizarding War, and the impending Second Wizarding War only reveal the entanglements between them all.But that’s what happens in a world where Love and Fate intertwine with Magic.(Primarily takes place between 1993 and 1999 with Marauders Era and First Wizarding War flashbacks.)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Original Female Character(s), Draco Malfoy/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter/Original Female Character(s), Hermione Granger & Original Female Character(s), Remus Lupin & Original Female Character(s), Remus Lupin/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Sirius Black/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. A Great History

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Use of the M-Word, Mentions of Voldermort, Death-Eaters, Wizarding Bigotry, Bullying

Harry Potter abruptly walks out of Madam Malkin’s in Diagon Alley with a bag full of school robes in hand. He shakes off the anxiety of an unpleasant conversation he had with a freakishly blonde-haired boy that seemed intent on annihilating his spirits. He sees no sign of Hagrid, who is easy to spot amongst the crowd. How he managed to screw up walking in and out of the store is beyond him… the only thing comforting him is that his cousin isn’t there to laugh at his confusion. He is constantly bombarded and enchanted by the various colors, robes, and shops surrounding him but at the same time, ennui fills up his chest. He innately knows that the feeling does not belong to him, but if it isn’t his, then to whom does this feeling belong? 

Harry hears a soft whisper hissing between his ears. He looks around but finds no one calling him….And it’s definitely not Hagrid because his voice is too distinctive to miss. He hears the _psst_ once more and begins to grow busy with each spin he performs as he looks amongst the peculiar witches and wizards walking about. 

_Find the broomstick in the window._

He pauses and lets the phrase play out again, this time slowing down the words.

_Find… the… broomstick... in...the...window…._

The whisper he hears is his own voice, and it is the most confident that he’s ever sounded in his life. The words continue to play in a loop in his head as he looks around for the broomstick. The message, he senses, isn’t a suggestion but a commandment. Without thinking, he takes a huge gulp and dives into the crowd. His eyes dart about the various windows as he looks for “the broomstick in the window”. He has a few near-bumps with a few adult witches and wizards and mutters a polite “sorry” as he descends a few shops down. _One has to be lost to be found… right?_

On the other side of Diagon Alley, Chara Vandever wanders around the aisles of Madam Primpernelle's Beautifying Potions and does her best to ignore the chemical fumes from the “skin-tightening” potions that her grandmother keeps rambling about. Though she has been to this shop at least a thousand times, a flood of awe swarms her vision. Everything feels somehow amazing though it is simply mundane. She stares out the window and looks into Broomstix, the store directly across, and immediately spots the Nimbus 2000. 

_Get a closer look at the Nimbus 2000… Just slip outside…. And walk across the street._

She shrugs off the thought as she tries to bring her attention back to the beauty shop but the Nimbus 2000, the broomstick that Chara intends to acquire as soon as she becomes a third-year (per the deal she and her grandmother made), beckons her. Concluding that disappearing for a few seconds would be healthy for the soul, Chara looks over her shoulder and finds that her grandmother is completely enveloped in her conversation. She gently pushes the store door, slips out, and slowly closes it.

She momentarily squeals in celebration before looking both ways and crossing the street. Is she going to be caught by her grandmother? Hopefully not. If so, will she get into trouble? Yep. Will Chara care? Not at all. Would it all be worth it? Absolutely. 

For the first time in a few hours, there is no crowd of schoolchildren suffocating the front window of Broomstix. Chara does not complain, as she finally gets to admire the broomstick up close. Before she can memorize the intricacies of the Nimbus 2000, she feels something… or someone settling next to her… and instinctively turns her head in the direction of the feeling, she sees a jet black and chaotically curly-haired boy with round glasses examining the broomstick. He has a slight pink flush to his face. He doesn't wear his extremely baggy and rugged clothing. They wear him. A cloud of exhaustion looms over him but there is something about him that feels extremely gentle. Before Chara can look away, the boy turns his head to look at her. 

Unbeknownst to the other, both of their hearts jump as his hypnotizing emerald eyes intertwine with her enthralling grey eyes. 

Harry feels a magnetic pull between himself and the girl looking back at him. Her raven black hair is of mid-back length, voluminous, curly, and more disciplined than his own curls. She is Mixed-Race and fair-skinned with a tint of beige. She wears a dress that looks like something from the Regency era (if he guesses correctly) and a matching robe cloak. He cannot help but think of the Disney version of Snow White, which is only encouraged by her warm smile. He immediately returns the favor. 

Chara feels her voice becoming instantly trapped within her throat. It begs to slip out of her lips. She tries to seal them shut, but the magic within her puts up a fight. The girl throws up an internal defense but the magic overpowers her and wins. Subconsciously admitting defeat she opens her mouth. 

“Fascinating, isn’t it?” blurts out Chara as she gestures at the Nimbus 2000 in the shop window. He shifts his eyes to the broomstick… which he has to admit is sleek. He wants to guess that the broomsticks are used for flying... but that's what a Muggle would assume, right? 

“It looks… brilliant. What are they used for?” asks Harry as he wincingly hopes that she won’t make him feel as bad as the boy from earlier did. 

“For Quidditch, of course!” she happily exclaims, which he takes as a cue to ask his next question. 

“What’s that?”

Her eyes light up and a smile beams as she giddily vibrates. “How do I best explain this… Hmmm…You fly on these broomsticks…” she begins, “And you get these… balls of sorts… and you have to fly over to these goalposts and throw them into the goal… and then there’s this other small flying ball that one designated person has to catch and it’s worth a lot of points, which usually results in the said team winning. It’s quite a complicated game, and I could go on for hours about it… I’m hoping to join my House team in my third year at Hogwarts.” 

Harry slowly nods his head. “Are you a first-year… or I guess... going to be a first-year?” he asks. 

“I am!” she confirms, “I assume you are as well?”

“Yeah.” 

“Wonderful! My name is Chara Vandever,” the girl says as she gracefully extends her hand. “Harry… Harry Potter ” he shyly replies as he takes her hand. A powerful but ticklish static sparks at the touch and ripples through their bodies. They immediately retract their hands. 

“Sorry, I-” Harry profusely spits out. 

“-No, don’t apologize! You’ve done nothing wrong,” Chara assures with a genuine smile. 

“It didn’t hurt, did it?” he asks.

“It felt… ticklish…” she answers as she observes her hand in wonder.

“I felt that too…Wanna go at it again?” he offers as he extends his hand. 

She nods. They shake hands a second time around. This time, the ticklish feeling flows between their hands. It’s a soothing feeling that immediately quells the erratic heartbeat that they were just attempting to tame within their chests. 

“That feels… nice,” he murmurs. “I agree. I’ve never had that happen to me before,” she says with a soft chuckle. 

Chara catches a brief glimpse of the infamous lightning bolt scar, which rests a few centimeters over his right eyebrow and hides between his curls. Like any other witch and wizard, she’s all too familiar with the story of Harry Potter: Parents murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named via Killing Curse on the sacred night of Samhain 1981… and somehow he survived the Killing Curse… and in doing so, obliterated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named… and basically disappeared from the face of the earth… until now. _Does it hurt? Does he even remember what happened? If you keep looking at it, he won’t want to be your friend. Don’t be rude._ She hastily returns back to his eyes which she finds to be the most gorgeous shade of green that she’s ever seen in her life so far… but she’ll keep that comment to herself for the time being. 

The magnetic feeling between them increases in its strength when he meets her eyes once more. He finds them to be extremely… bewitching...which suits her given that she is indeed a witch. Or perhaps it’s because he’s never seen a pair of striking gray eyes… which begins to look silvery as the sunlight begins to shine on them. He can’t help but feel self-conscious of his calloused hands, which is the result of performing nearly all of the house chores with the Dursleys, as his palm makes contact with her extremely soft hands. He feels a warm sensation, energy or perhaps magic, circulate through from her hand into his body. It’s the calmest he’s felt within the past few days. _Is she feeling this as well? Should I ask? Maybe not… Don’t be weird and scare her off, Harry._

“-Chara! There you are!” calls out a stringent voice. 

They turn their heads and find an older Afro-British witch looking at them with her chin raised a little higher than the average person would. She analyzes Harry from head to toe. Her eyes widen slightly before giving him a raised eyebrow. Her eyes return to Chara with a less skeptical look. 

“Grandmother!” Chara answers with a destabilized tone.

“We must get going this instant!” urges her grandmother. 

The young witch turns back to Harry with a look of slight defeat, “I would love to keep talking, but I’m afraid I must go. It was lovely to meet you, Harry.” 

The hands of the young witch and wizard achingly slip away from each other. Their heart rates immediately rise. 

“Likewise, Chara,” says Harry, “I’ll see you at Hogwarts.” As the distance between them increases, their hands sulk in agony. The girl joins her grandmother, who promptly escorts her away. She looks back at Harry, who is still looking at her. They exchange friendly smiles one last time before she disappears into the masses of Diagon Alley. 

Harry’s line of sight is suddenly darkened. He notices a large shadow on the ground. He turns around and sees Hagrid with two ice cream cones in his hand, “Made a friend I see, Harry?” 

“Yeah... Her name’s Chara,” Harry explains as he accepts the treat from Hagrid, “Chara Vandever… She’s a first-year too. She seems really nice.” 

“Vandever? I didn’t know that Pomeline had a little one. That’s… _Oh_ ,” Hagrid murmurs to himself before remembering that Harry was standing in front of him, “Er… Let’s get going, shall we? We need to get you some writing supplies… I know just the place!” 

☆

After concluding school supply shopping, Chara and her grandmother rush over to Florian Fortescue’s Ice Cream. Through the glass window, they see Narcissa, a long blonde-haired and gray-eyed stylish woman, sitting across from Draco, her equally blonde son. A few ice cream bowls later, the sugar turns the two kiddos into drunken giddy piglets as the elder witches engage in their own chit-chat. 

“I met this disheveled-looking boy when I was getting fitted,” teasingly says Draco, “He had no clue what I was talking about. He was an absolute mess with his glasses, baggy clothes, and messy hair. He looked like a lost little fawn.” 

Chara briefly sobers up as she takes in her friend’s words, “Messy hair? Was his hair all curly?” 

Draco nods as he swallows a spoonful of ice cream. “Round glasses?” she asks. Draco nods again as he savors the flavor in his mouth. 

“I think I met the same boy in front of Broomstix. We were looking at the Nimbus and talked about Quidditch. His name’s Harry,” happily recalls Chara as her grandmother turns in their direction, “He seems shy… but sweet.” 

“Harry _whom_ ?” Inquires her grandmother. _Keep that information to yourself._

The girl shrugs, “Just Harry.” 

“Whoever he is, I hope he isn’t in Slytherin with us,” says Draco, “Everything about him screams reeks of bloody Muggles.” 

“Draco!” scolds Narcissa, “You shouldn’t be using language like that!”

“Father said that he doesn’t want me and Chara to mingle with them at Hogwarts,” justifies the boy, “He said that the Muggleborns would only contaminate us. I’m only following what he instructed, that’s all.” 

☆

Harry spends most of August being ignored by his uncle, aunt, and cousin… which is usually a relief, but it’s only because they are afraid of him now. Hedwig, his snowy white owl, doesn’t appear to be as she nibbles at his hands to show her affection. He also finds that she’s an excellent listener, especially as she’s being gently stroked. 

“I can’t wait to get out of here, Hedwig. You have no idea. If I could leave right now, I would,” Harry says to the owl in a low voice, “I don’t know how long I’d last at Hogwarts, but it’s better than ‘Harry Hunting’. It’s this stupid game that Dudley and his gang played where they’d just… You know what, let’s not talk about it…” 

Hedwig softly hoots at him as she stares at him intently. 

“I don’t know if I’m going to make any human friends at Hogwarts, but at least I’ll have one. I think… That is if she’ll remember me by then. She looks like someone who’ll have loads of friends,” he continues. Hedwig tilts her head at her owner which he decides to interpret as a sign of curiosity. 

“Her name’s Chara Vandever. It’s an unusual name, at least that’s what Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would say… but I think that she has a cool name. She looks like Snow White but with longer, curlier hair. I think you would like her, Hedwig. She’s really nice… and she’s got softer hands than I have. You’d really enjoy nibbling her fingers…” 

Hedwig happily hoots aloud, which prompts Harry to pleadingly shush her. The owl immediately goes silent. “Sorry. I just don’t want you to get into trouble. Where was I again?” 

The owl spreads her wings about and shakes her feathers before looking back at Harry. 

“Right… When I shook her hand, I had felt this static in my hand. It didn’t hurt like an electrical shock, but it tickled… which I don’t think happens between Muggles… but then again, I’ve only touched one witch in my life so far and it was Chara… Do you think it means anything? Good or bad? Like the phoenix feather in my wand? I’m not saying she’s Voldermort… I’m not saying she’s evil… But there’s… something to this… My chest felt like a literal magnet, Hedwig…. That’s… not common, is it?” 

Hedwig ambiguously moves her head about. 

“You’re right, Hedwig. Maybe I’m being thick again… Or am I?” 

He sighs as she nibbles at his fingers again. 

“Maybe I should wait to see if I’ll ever get to talk to her again. I hope I do. I hope I really do. and I hope that she wants to talk to me.”

Hedwig slides the top of her head into the palm of his hand and runs her head against it, prompting him to continuously stroke her. She quietly hoots in satisfaction. 

☆

Onboard the Hogwarts Express, Chara Vandever, already in her school robes, finds herself being squeezed amongst the students walking through the corridor as they all stare at her. The lack of etiquette exhibited would make her grandmother’s blood boil… in a bad way, of course. Desperately seeking a way out of the crowd, Chara reaches for the first compartment door and slides it open. She sees a dark brown Afro-British girl, clearly a first-year, with massive frizzy hair, reading from a large and thick book. She too is already in her school robes. 

“Hello there,” greets the girl, “The seat’s free. You can sit if you’d like. Are you a first-year too?”

Chara nods and sits across her. 

“I’m Hermione Granger,” eagerly says the girl as she offers her hand, which Chara instantly takes.

“Chara Vandever.” 

As they shake hands, they feel neither any static nor any strong sensations in their body. 

“Your name sounds familiar… Have we met before?” asks Hermione. 

“I don’t think so?” says Chara as she watches the girl genuinely ponder this over. 

“No… I doubt we did,” concludes Hermione, “My parents are Muggles and I didn’t even know this world existed until Professor McGonagall, she’s the Professor of Transfigurations, showed up at my house and explained the whole thing to my parents, who were delighted to learn that I was a witch.” 

Draco’s unpleasant words at the ice cream shop echo through Chara’s head, which she instantly shakes off. 

“That’s cool. I come from a family of witches,” says Chara. 

“Perhaps I’m experiencing déjà-vu. Is that a thing in this world?” asks Hermione once again. 

“What’s that?" 

“Feeling like you’ve experienced something that you’re experiencing for the first time.” 

“I’ve felt that, but I don’t think it is… At least I haven’t heard anyone talking about it yet.” 

Hermione nods in understanding as she nervously fidgets with the page of her book. 

“What are you reading?” asks Chara. 

“ _Hogwarts: A History_ by Bathilda Bagshot,” replies Hermione, “Have you read it?” 

Chara shakes her head. 

“It’s such an informative book. I’m surprised that it’s not a mandatory read for all first-year students,” orates Hermione as her big dark brown eyes light up with glee, “You learn so much about the school! For example, did you know that boys aren’t allowed in the girls’ dormitories? If they do, the stairs will turn into a slide for them. And the ceiling of the Great Hall, which is where we’ll be eating and where we’ll also be Sorted, is bewitched to look like the outside sky as it is at any moment… And that Muggles see an old castle when looking at Hogwarts… Sorry, I don’t mean to ramble-” 

_She’s really talkative. I like her._

“-No, don’t apologize! Go on! I want to hear more!” insists Chara. For the next two hours, Hermione passionately monologues about how she’s studied any and all resources about the Wizarding World since she got her Hogwarts letter. It’s obvious that she’s been dying to talk about this for ages, and hearing Hermione go on about their world makes Chara feel more appreciative of the world she’s grown up in. She doesn’t understand why Draco seems to have such an issue with Muggles and Muggleborns. They seem amazing. _She_ seems amazing. 

Hermione is in the middle of explaining the castle’s effect on Muggle technology when a powerful and sweet perfume of pumpkin pasties drowns Chara’s nostrils. “Do you smell that?” she asks her new friend. Hermione raises her nose in the air and sniffs, “No? Why do you ask?”

Chara sniffs again, “You don’t smell the pumpkin pasties?” 

“What are those?” 

“They’re like pumpkin-flavored pastries, they’re really delicious and highly addictive. They’re really good.” 

_Follow the scent._

“Want to explore the rest of the train?” suggests Chara, “I have a feeling that we should follow that scent. Perhaps they’re selling pumpkin pasties. I’ll buy you one.” 

“Alright then,” agrees Hermione, “As long as we stick together.” 

Chara, like a hunting dog, sniffs her way through the corridors of the train. Hermione curiously follows from behind. They narrowly dodge kids racing up and down the corridors, which makes Hermione judgmentally groan under her breath. 

“Do you always follow the feelings you have?” asks Hermione from behind. 

“Only recently. Last time, I snuck out of a shop I was at with my grandmother to check out the Nimbus 2000 at Broomstix in Diagon Alley,” explains Chara. 

“You had a feeling to look at a broomstick?” 

“Not just any broomstick. The Nimbus 2000. I also ended up meeting a boy.” 

Now that Chara says it out loud, it sounds extremely outlandish… even by witch standards. She can feel Hermione beaming with excitement from behind her. 

“Ooooh! What’s his name?” squeals Hermione. 

“Harry. He’s our year actually,” says Chara. 

“Really? How was he?”

“He was nice and he has very pretty green eyes. We also talked about Quidditch.”

“How exciting! I hope I can meet this Harry.”

“How about you? Do you follow the feelings you have?” Chara wanders out loud as she hopes that she doesn’t weird out a second potential friend. 

“I always have a strong urge to enter large bodies of water,” says Hermione, “But I haven’t met any boys or girls in the water…Unless I’m at the beach of course. I love being in the water. I love taking baths and I love to swim… Doesn’t matter if it’s a pool or a lake, or an ocean, or even a spring, I’ll swim in it. I’m hoping to swim in the Black Lake before it gets cold.” 

They stop at a random compartment door, where the scent is strongest. They hear boyish laughter. Chara feels a knot form in her stomach as she looks to the hydrophile. “Try knocking,” suggests Hermione. Chara raps at the door. The laughter is halted by a shush. The girls stand back as the door begins to open. It’s Harry, whose mouth is agape. She instantly feels her heart jump at the very sight of him as she feels a magnetic pull to him. It’s Diagon Alley all over again.

“Chara!” he exclaims with a large smile. 

“Harry!” Chara says with the same amount of enthusiasm. Hermione blinks rapidly in surprise. 

“How… How are you?” he asks. 

“Splendid! Yourself?” 

“Brilliant!” 

“You two know each other?” Hermione asks Chara and Harry.

“Yeah,” answers Harry, “We met in Diagon Alley.” 

A knowing smile breaks across Hermione’s face. She sneakily nudges Chara with her arm. A freckled ginger boy curiously gets up and looks at the girls, “Oh hello. Wanna come in?”

The girls look at each other and nod. Harry lets them inside the compartment. He and the other boy awkwardly clear the Honeydukes candy on the seats. The girls sit across from the boys. A rat jumps out of the ginger boy’s pocket. Hermione jumps at the sight. “It’s alright. It’s just Scabbers. He’s my pet rat. Family pet rat, but still… he’s completely clean and harmless, I promise,” says the boy who holds Scabbers up to the girls. Hermione reluctantly makes eye contact with the rat, murmuring a small “Hello”. Chara smiles and waves at Scabbers. 

“I’m Ron Weasley by the way,” continues the boy, “What are your names?” 

“Hermione Granger,” replies Hermione.

“I’m Chara Vandever,” replies Chara. 

Scabbers lets out a squeal, jumping out of Ron’s clutches and landing on the ground. Ron quickly picks him up and soothingly comforts him, “Sorry about that… Vandever, eh? Are you related to Katarina Vandever by any chance?”

Chara nods, “She’s my grandmother.” 

Ron looks at her with wonder, “That’s wicked!” 

“Ron, what are you-” says Harry. 

“Oh, right. The Vandevers are an aristocratic Wizarding family. They’re a big deal, ” begins Ron. Chara lets out an awkward chuckle as Ron, Hermione, and Harry look at her in wonder.

Hermione’s eyes widen as the wheels in her head seemingly churn, “I knew your name sounded familiar! I read about your family in _Modern Magical History_!” she says with lightning speed, “They came from the Netherlands and joined the British Wizarding High Society during the reign of William and Mary!” 

Chara nods, merely saying "You're not wrong." 

“Her grandmother’s all over the society pages on _Witch Weekly_ and the _Daily Prophet_. My mum loves those,” Ron raves to Harry. Hermione studies Harry, “What’s your name, by the way?” 

“Harry. Harry Potter,” he answers. The wheels blatantly increase their speed in Hermione’s mind.

“Are you really?” she asks. He nods. 

“I know all about you, of course. You’re also in _Modern Magical History_ as well as _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century,”_ she explains, “I got a few extra books… to keep up of course. I’ve no magic in my family so… Just to keep up.”

“If it makes you feel any better, Hermione, I’ve got no idea what’s what either. I grew up with my Muggle relatives before I knew about… any of this… And you know way more than I do,” says Harry. 

“I’d be happy to share my books,” offers Hermione. 

“And I’m more than happy to explain things as we go along,” adds Chara.

“Yeah same here,” says Ron. 

“Anyone want any sweets?” excitedly asks Harry as he gestures at the treats between the boys, “I highly recommend the pumpkin pasties! They’re brilliant!” 

“I’ll take one. Chara was telling me all about them earlier,” says Hermione. “I’ll take one too,” says Chara. Harry tosses them a pumpkin pasty packet. Hermione bites into it, and lets out a hum that expresses approval, “Oh my god, Chara, you were absolutely right.” 

“Harry, is this your first time having pumpkin pasties?” asks Chara. 

“Yeah! I bought a whole lot from the cart earlier. These are my favorite so far,” Harry happily answers before eating another one. As Chara chews her own pasty, she looks over to Harry who soaks up the flavor. He shoots her a goofy look and they break into soft smiles. 

“Does anyone know what House they’ll be in?” curiously asks Hermione, "I hope I’m in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best. I heard that Dumbledore was in it but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad…” 

“Ron, what House are your brothers in?” asks Harry.

“Gryffindor,” answers Ron with an air of anxiety, “Mum and Dad were in it, too.” 

“My mum was in Gryffindor too!” exclaims Chara. 

“Does family guarantee being sorted into a House?” wanders Harry, 

“People tend to join the same Houses as their family, but not always,” explains Ron, “I don’t know what my parents will say if I’m sorted elsewhere. Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad… Imagine if I end up in Slytherin.” 

“Isn’t that the House that Vol- Sorry, You-Know-Who was in?” asks Harry. 

Ron nods, “Yeah.” 

Chara lets out a nervous chuckle. _Er… what?_ _No one told me about that._

Over the next few hours, the quartet of first years gets into a passionate conversation about Quidditch. Ron and Chara, who support opposing teams, are intricately describing the technicalities of the game when the compartment doors slide open. Four people enter. Chara recognizes them as Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zambini, Theo Nott, and Draco Malfoy to be specific. All aristocratic children like herself. She knows that it’d be rude to completely ignore them, but judging on the looks they’re giving Hermione, Ron, and Harry, they don’t seem to be here to make friends either. She settles on a polite closed smile. 

“Chara, what are you doing here?” asks Draco as she bites into another pumpkin pasty and swallows. “Making friends of course,” she answers, “What are _you_ doing here?”

He intensely eyes Harry, who isn’t at all fazed to see Draco. “They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. Is it true? You’re Harry Potter?” the blonde boy arrogantly asks him. 

“Yes,” says Harry. 

“This is Parkinson, Zambini, and Nott,” continues Draco as he points out his friends, who stand behind him like an entourage, “You already know Vandever, from what I see. My name’s Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” 

Chara physically cringes. _I don’t like where this is going._

Ron breaks into a light chuckle, which he immediately disguises as a cough. Draco scowls at him, "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

_What is he doing? Why is he being awful?_

Ron immediately slouches as he looks at the floor. Draco turns his attention back to Harry, “You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” Draco offers his hand to Harry. Harry stoically looks at the hand and looks back up to Draco, who holds it up to him for a good ten seconds. 

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry says coldly. Draco’s smirk transforms into a personal scowl as his pale cheeks turn pink. "I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he slowly threatens, "Unless you're a bit politer, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hang around with riffraff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid, and it'll rub off on you.” 

Hermione gasps. Ron’s face turns into a blood red. Harry’s right eye involuntarily twitches as his body stiffens. Chara’s fists tremors as she clenches them. The boys stand up. 

"Say that again," says Ron, “Go on.” 

"Oh, you're going to fight us, are you?" taunts Malfoy. 

"Unless you get out now," said Harry who is clearly letting the rush of the moment get into his head. Hermione becomes visibly nervous at this obvious prelude to fisticuffs.

“Draco, I think it’s best you leave,” strongly warns Chara who gives him a stern look as she stands up. Neither of them blinks. 

“You know what, Chara? You’re absolutely right. Let’s get going” Draco instructs Parkinson, Zambini, and Nott as he slides the compartment door open and they begin to exit. Chara, Ron, and Harry sit down. Draco turns around and looks at Chara. 

“Aren’t you coming?” asks Draco as he watches Chara grab a pumpkin pasty. “No. I’m good here,” she answers. 

“Why not?” he complains. 

“Because I happen to like riffraff,” she explains with a smile. Draco gives all four of them a mean look before slamming the door shut. Hermione allows herself to finally breathe and fully panic, “That was close! Like really, really, close. We could have gotten into trouble before even getting there!” 

“But we didn’t,” urges Ron, “And that’s a win for me.” 

“Chara, you know Malfoy?” recalls Hermione

“He’s a family friend,” briefly explains Chara. 

Harry relates his encounter with Draco in Diagon Alley. It’s rude, damning, and as of today, an accurate account of Draco Malfoy. 

"I've heard of his family," remarks Ron, "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side." 

Chara’s eyes widen. _He_ _what?_

Hermione looks outside, the sun is setting between the mountains, which prompts her to say to the boys, "You'd better hurry up and put your robes on. I think we’ll be arriving soon.”

“Would you mind leaving while we change?" requests Ron. The girls nod and leave the compartment. Hearing murmurs of the boys chit-chatting, Hermione leans towards the door to listen in but Chara quickly pulls her away. 

“Sorry, I got eager,” whispers Hermione, “But oh my god! That’s Harry from Diagon Alley! You didn’t tell me it was Harry Potter! Not that it matters… Well, it is sort of a big deal but it also isn’t, if that makes any sense… It’s sort of strange, isn’t it?” 

“Is it?” wanders Chara in a whisper. 

“I think so. You had a feeling that led to him. Of all people. _Twice_ ,” Hermione passionately whispers, “It can’t be a coincidence. No, it’s not… Surely there’s an explanation for this! This feels like something straight out of a movie!” 

Chara’s mind ties into a knot, “A what?”

Ron pops his head out from the compartment, “We’re decent!” 

“I’ll explain later,” whispers Hermione as they slowly walk back into the, “But I’m not letting this go. Not until we get to the bottom of this! It’ll be our little project!” 

A voice echoes through the train as the girls re-enter the compartment, announcing, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

☆

A few minutes, a boat ride, and a-boy-reuniting-with-his-toad-on-the-harbor-later, Chara zones out through Professor McGonagall’s speech about the Sorting Ceremony in the Great Hall. She knows how it works: you wear the Sorting Hat and it places you in the House that reflects your heart the most. McGonagall begins to read the surnames from a scroll, beginning with the letter A… which means that Chara is going to be standing for a while. The ceremony barely begins when the young quartet hears “Granger, Hermione!’ 

Hermione reaches for Chara’s hand and squeezes it tightly. Chara can feel her hands shaking. 

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Hermione whispers with feigned confidence. 

“What if we don’t-” begins Chara. 

“We’ll end up in the same House. I just know it,” insists Hermione as she lets go of her hand, “For now, I just need to breathe…” She quickly runs over to the stool. The Sorting Hat, which is old and rather large, covers her face. Her legs nervously swing about as the Hat seemingly thinks and declares “GRYFFINDOR!” 

Ron, Chara, and Harry happily clap. The remaining three fidget about as they wait through the surnames ranging between letters H and L. No one exchanges anything except the occasional smile. 

“Malfoy, Draco!” 

Chara looks through the crowd and watches her friend strut his way through the group of first-years and sit on the stool. The Hat barely touches his light hair when it screams “SLYTHERIN!” 

_He’s sorted in Slytherin… Why am I not surprised?_

Satisfied with his sorting, Draco hops off the stool and makes his way to the Slytherin table. He knowingly smirks at Chara. She interprets this as a “See you soon” smile. Chara, Harry, and Ron nod through the blur names as the Hat continuously declare his assignments. They skittishly breathe in sync until the trio hears, “Potter, Harry!” 

Whispers of both children and adults unsurprisingly break across the Great Hall. 

“ _The_ Harry Potter?” 

“Potter, did he say?” 

Chara and Ron mouth well wishes to Harry before he steps forward and sits on the stool. She feels her heart violently sprinting and becomes nauseous as she watches the Hat cover his eyes. Her stomach treacherously turns with every pang her heart gives out. After a few seconds, the Hat declares “GRYFFINDOR!” 

The retching within her suddenly ceases and her heart begins to regulate itself back into her typical rhythm as she and Ron applaud Harry’s sorting. The Gryffindor table breaks into a glorious uproar as he joins the table with several of them chanting “WE GOT POTTER! WE GOT POTTER!”

A few names later McGonagall calls out “Vandever, Chara!” 

She and Ron give each other a nervous but assuring look before she politely walks up the steps and sits on the chair. She sees all four Houses staring at her. She shares a quick closed-mouth smile with Ron before the inside of the Hat blocks her vision. She begins to hear a deep and witty hum inside of her mind. 

“I sense a great history within you, Chara Vandever,” observes the Hat, “It calls out to me. It could serve you well in either Slytherin or Gryffindor... ” 

_Not Slytherin. Please put me in Gryffindor. I wanted to be sorted in the latter anyway._

“Hmmm… Interesting. Elaborate on that more…” requests the Hat, “It’s alright… no one will ever know. Just don’t speak out loud.” 

_I know that my grandmother was in Slytherin, but I don’t want to be in the same House that You-Know-Who was in, and I can’t be in the same House as Draco and Lucius Malfoy. I don’t want to end up like them. I’m nothing like them. I don’t want to be associated with them._

“I only bring up Slytherin because the potential success there is high. And seeing that you do have ties there-” 

_"-My mother was in Gryffindor. Her name was Pomeline Vandever._

The Hat hums and thinks. 

“Ah… Yes… Pomeline… Clever mind… Lots of bravado… and a great thirst for dissent… all of which you seem to have inherited.” 

_I never got to know her, but I would like to experience Hogwarts as she did. If I am anything like her, I would like to be placed in Gryffindor… but I will respect your judgment if you find that I am a better fit elsewhere._

“You are not the first to make requests...and you will not be the last to do so. Let’s see…What else lies within you?” 

Chara waits.

“You have an unusual sense of honor. Plenty of ardor and valor. Impishness, too, and… _Oh."_

_What's the matter?_

"Analysis. Merely analysis, dear. Yes… yes. Taking my first statement into account, it seems that the best House for you is…” 

“GRYFFINDOR!” shouts The Sorting Hat. Chara grasps her heart and lets out a sigh of relief as the hat is removed from her head. She excitedly rises from her chair and approaches the roaring Gryffindor table. As she passes by the Slytherin table, she makes brief eye contact with Draco, who shoots her an acrimonious look. The exchange of looks between them is interrupted by a tall ginger boy, who looks a lot like Ron, but if he was older and wore thick-framed glasses.

“I’m Percy Weasley, one of the Prefects,” he states in a matter-of-factly tone, “Welcome to Gryffindor.” 

“Thank you, Percy,” politely replies Chara as she sits next to none other than Harry Potter. As their eyes mingle with one another, a gentle tickle tugs at their stomachs, triggering a smile within them simultaneously. 

“Hello Chara,” Harry greets with a wide grin. 

“Hello Harry,” Chara says as she returns a grin of her own, “We really must stop winding up in the same places at the same time.” 

“Oh I doubt that’s going to happen,” cheekily states Harry, “You’re stuck with me now.” 

Rays of joy flow between the both of them as they continuously smile and giggle at one another. The sound of a high-pitched throat-clearing instantly cuts off the flow. It’s Hermione, who directly sits across Chara. 

“I told you we’d end up in the same House,” remarks Hermione, “You do know that I was sitting here this whole time, right?” 

Chara smiles at her new friend, “Of course I did. You were right, Hermione.” 

A few names later, McGonagall calls for “Weasley, Ronald!” 

“My fingers are crossed for him,” wishfully states Harry as he embodies his words. The three new Gryffindors watch as the ginger boy has the Hat placed on his head. 

“GRYFFINDOR!” 

The table breaks into another applause as Ron joins them at the table. As Ron joins the trio at the table, Chara allows her mind to stay still and look within. She finds stillness and a glowing warmth spreading through her heart. This feels… right. 

_Thank you, Hat._

_☆_

After a tiring first day of classes, the four new friends opt to hang out in the Clock Tower Courtyard. As they determine a spot to settle in, Scabbers pops out of Ron’s pocket and excitedly runs up the nearby pear tree. “Scabbers! Get back here!” worriedly pleads Ron as he watches Scabbers scale the tree with agility, “Let me get the pear for you! Silly rat!” Harry, Hermione, and Chara chuckle as they watch the rat jump between branches. 

“You know, I was actually hoping that you’d at least ditch them outside of that Tower,” growls a whiny voice that Harry hears first. He turns around, which prompts his three friends to turn as well. It’s Malfoy, who focuses his gray eyes onto Chara’s. 

“How on earth did you end up in Gryffindor, anyway?” he nastily inquires as he looks dead straight at Chara. 

“I just did,” she answers matter-of-factly. 

“But, Chara, we wanted to join Slytherin…”

“No, _you_ wanted to join Slytherin, Draco,”

“But your grandmother was in Slytherin… My parents were in Slytherin-” he rambles.

“My mother was in Gryffindor. Are you going to put her down too?" replies a now-irate Chara, "Even if she wasn’t, it doesn’t matter how our family’s sorted. “You actually have to fit the House, and I happen to look better in red and gold than I do in green and silver.” 

Smoke forms in Malfoy’s eyes. He swallows a lump and the smoke vanishes. “And out of all the friends you make… them?” the Slytherin disrespectfully remarks as he glares at Harry, who feels a sudden shift in his gut. 

“Didn’t anyone teach you basic Wizarding etiquette, Potter? I’m the Hereditary Prince. You’re supposed to bow to me. All of you,” Malfoy turns to Hermione and gives her a contemptuous look, “Especially you, Mudblood.” 

Harry knits his eyebrows at the remark. He deduces from Ron’s red hot tomato face that this was not your average insult. Despite his calm temperament, he suddenly feels an involuntary violent tremor surge through his body. Within seconds, Chara swings the back of her hand across Malfoy’s face. The strike reminds Harry of the Wimbledon tennis players that Aunt Petunia would excitedly watch… until she would catch and proceed to lock him into the cupboard. Upon impact, Malfoy loses his balance but manages to catch both himself and whatever dignity he has left. 

“WHO IN MERLIN’S BEARD DO YOU THINK YOU ARE THAT YOU CAN OPPRESS PEOPLE WITH A TITLE THAT YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE?!” scarily yells Chara, whose articulation is even sharper than usual. 

Malfoy’s hair is disheveled and the point of impact of her face radiates a bright crimson. Cusping at that cheek, he looks at Chara with widened eyes and quivering lips before molding his face into an arrogant grin, “It’s only a matter of time before the mad Prince croaks. One day I _will_ become the Hereditary Prince and after that, the Wizarding Prince. And when that day comes, everyone will bow when they see me. Including you, Chara.” 

Knots simmer within Harry’s stomach as Chara squints her eyes at Malfoy and closes the gap between them, making the boy take several steps back. Harry swears that his veins briefly froze as he watches her in action. 

“I bow to no one. Not to your mother and certainly not to you,” Chara hisses with a snarl, “And if I don’t have to do it, neither do they.” 

Harry feels the tremor within him reduce to a shaky wave as he watches Malfoy and Chara lock their eyes into a pouty staredown. “Wait till my mother hears about this,” he warns her. “And wait till my godmother hears about you,” she retorts. Malfoy seemingly submits to her and walks away from the group, “You ought to be wary of your new associations, Chara. They bring the worst out of you.” 

Harry feels his heart pang as Chara turns to her friends with a softened look. Her eyes immediately go to Hermione, who is clearly shaken by the encounter. 

“Are you alright, Hermione?” gently asks Chara. 

“I don’t know,” Hermione answers with a frown, “I heard about that word from some of the older students… I just didn’t expect to hear it so soon.” 

“What’s that word supposed to mean?” Harry asks with a hint of self-consciousness in his voice. “It’s an extremely offensive word used towards Muggleborns,” clarifies Ron, “We all know that ancestry’s got nothing to do with being a good Witch or Wizard.”

“It’s like the N-word… at least that’s how Lee Jordan explained it to me,” adds Hermione. A foreign wave of guilt washes over Harry as he watches Chara grimace at her striking hand. 

“How’s your hand?” asks Harry as he wipes his glasses with his robe and puts it back on. “It... hurts. I’ve never struck anyone before…” says Chara, “I’m going to get into a lot of trouble when my godmother and grandmother hear about this.” 

“Wouldn’t you get into trouble for standing there?” remarks Harry. 

“Yeah, that’s weird. You did the right thing by putting Malfoy back in his place,” seconds Ron. 

“Well, Narcissa Malfoy is my godmother,” answers Chara.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” says Harry, who quickly sees that Ron’s jaw is now agape.

“The Wizarding Regent is your godmother?!” exclaims Ron.

“Regent? As in a monarch? We have our own kingdom?” Harry asks. 

“The Wizarding communities of Great Britain make up a principality, actually,” corrects Hermione, “That’s why we have a Wizarding Prince or Wizarding Princess instead of King or Queen.” 

“Who’s the mad Prince that Malfoy was talking about?” he asks next. Ron and Chara exchange frightful expressions. “Sirius Black,” Ron says with a shudder in his voice, “I have to agree with Malfoy about him… he’s absolutely mad.”

“Why?” Hermione continues the flow of questions. 

“He blew up a street in London and laughed… he just stood there and laughed. He’s a big supporter of You-Know-Who,” continues Ron’s explanation. “Voldemort?” skeptically asks Harry. 

Chara nods, “Yes… him. He was the Wizarding Prince… Well, he still is the Wizarding Prince. He’s in Azkaban now. That’s the Wizarding prison for our country. Nasty place to end up. He’ll be there for the rest of his life, and when he dies, Narcissa will officially become the Wizarding Princess… and Draco will become the Hereditary Prince otherwise known as the Heir Apparent. And when that day occurs… Godric help us all.” 

“Is Sirius Black her brother?” asks Hermione. “Her paternal first cousin,” clarifies Chara. 

Since he’s stepped foot at Hogwarts, Harry has made it a point to allow his mind to become a sponge… but the sponge within him is becoming a little too damp at this moment in time. “So if she’s the… Regent…. What does that make you?” asks Harry.

“Me? Nothing, really. I’m just a regular aristocrat,” casually answers Chara. 

“Yeah, a regular aristocrat witch who just mucked with royalty,” cheekily says Ron. Hermione physically cringes. 

“She didn’t just ‘muck’ with royalty, she struck him, Ron! Chara could get into a lot of trouble if Malfoy says something,” panics Hermione. Chara carefully opens her mouth and slowly gathers her words. 

“She won’t go to Azkaban for hitting someone who isn’t a prince yet,” argues Ron who beats Chara in speaking first, “Besides, she was defending your honor.” 

“She’s literally standing right there,” snarkily remarks Harry. The group turns their attention back to Chara. 

“It’s not about me. It’s about Hermione… Striking him felt like the right thing to do and I’d do it again,” nonchalantly states Chara with a shrug, “What’s the worst that they’ll do? Send a letter? Scold me when I return home for Yule? I don’t care what my godmother and grandmother have to say about it. You don’t use words like that. Besides, we’re at Hogwarts. They can’t touch us here. No one can.” 

As the aristocratic witch finishes her sentence, Harry feels his forehead twinge. 

_  
  
  
_


	2. Solstitium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of Death, The Dursleys being The Dursleys, Mentions of Pureblood Supremacy

June 21st, 1993. Litha. The Summer Solstice. The longest day of the year. After today, the sun will slowly but surely set earlier over time, leaving everyone exposed to the darkness until Yule. But for now, the Wizarding community will use this day to embrace the light, fire, sheer power, and vibrant energy. 

Today is an ode to the sun herself. In Wizarding culture, all witches and wizards are expected to spend their days outdoors, perform celebratory magic, wear flowers as crowns, and consume nothing but sweet things all day and all night long.

☆

The faint rays of daylight sneak into Harry’s room and cast themselves into his closed eyes. He wiggles about in his bed and opts to ignore the illumination. He lazily groans. He hears Hedwig quietly enter through his open window and softly land on his bedside. She proceeds to affectionately nibble at his ear.

He squirms as he insists on keeping his eyes shut. Hedwig tilts her head as she stares at her owner’s stubbornness manifesting once again. She softly hoots. Harry reluctantly opens his eyes and looks at Hedwig as she nudges a package towards him.

“Later, Hedwig,” sleepily insists Harry. Hedwig urgingly hoots again.

“Not right now. Can’t it wait?”

Hedwig drops the package on his bed. The scent of honey swimming into his nostrils makes Harry sit upright and examine the creamy-colored box that is secured with a lace ribbon. He sees a card underneath the ribbon. He unties the package and reads:

_To Harry Potter_

_From Chara Vandever_

“Hedwig, why didn’t you tell me that it was from Chara?”

Harry swears that he sees Hedwig perform an eye-roll. It’s something that she might have seen him do one too many times. Hedwig excitingly hoots, encouraging him to open the envelope. He carefully but eagerly tears the envelope and finds a letter. A whiff of flowery perfume tickles his nose. He curiously smells the paper. He brings the paper in Hedwig’s direction.

“Do you smell that?”

Hedwig flaps her wings in excitement and shakes her feathers. She hoots, which Harry takes as a statement of agreement.

“How did she do that? Do you think she sprayed it or was the card already like that?”

Hedwig hoots as she hops onto his bed. He moves to the side as Hedwig sits next to him. She hoots again. He quietly reads the message aloud:

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Litha! Happy Summer Solstice!_

_My grandmother and I were baking a batch of honey cakes to enjoy and I managed to smuggle a dozen out of the kitchen. I doubt she’ll notice. Hedwig was lovely enough to arrive just in time. She’s playing with Juniper as I write this letter (I fed her some owl treats and bacon if that’s alright with you)! The cakes are meant to last a while under the sun so you can keep them in your room and enjoy them all day long today._

_I know that you won’t be able to properly observe the summer solstice but if you want to, you needn’t do anything fancy. You could always meditate in the sunlight or spend a few hours in your Aunt’s garden. Do make sure that you don’t get another sunburn!_

_Please write back to me as soon as you can so that I know that you’re alright. You would not be bombarding me at all._

_Hugs,_

_Chara_

Harry’s heart flutters as he breaks into a childish smile. With his mind’s eye, he sees Chara wearing a long flowy dress as she wanders around in a garden. She softly giggles as she encounters a large but affectionate animal that submits to her will, which is not dissimilar to Chara’s nurturing interactions with Fang, Hagrid’s pet dog, whom she was more than happy to look after when he was briefly sent to Azkaban over the spring term.

Harry’s daydream is interrupted by the sound of the snowy owl eagerly pecking at the package. He shakes off the thought as he opens up the package. His mouth waters at the sight of a dozen bronze-colored honey cakes that are shaped like unfrosted cupcakes. He takes a bite out of one of the soft little cakes. It’s definitely honey with a dash of cinnamon. The amount of honey that the Vandever women put is just right. He gobbles up the remaining cake before having another. _I should brush my teeth before heading downstairs so that I get to keep Chara’s treats to myself._

He lets the aftertaste simmer in his mouth. Hedwig pecks at the letter. He dreamily skims the letter again but is immediately clearheaded by the realization that he forgot to read her afterthought.

_PS - My grandmother and I will be spending the evening and all day tomorrow with the Malfoys. I’m only going because my godmother and grandmother finalized the arrangements before we left Hogwarts. I only found out after I got home. I’m hoping to avoid Draco and Lucius but I doubt that’s going to happen. Wish me luck._

“Oh god,” he mutters to himself as he vividly recalls both Lucius’ disdain for him as well as the messy drama that came with Dobby last year. “I do hope that she fares well with the Malfoys,” Harry wishfully says to the owl, “I don’t want her to get into trouble because of me.”

Harry feels his neck and shoulders involuntarily tense. As he rolls his shoulders, the tension only increases. He brings his hand across his chest to soothingly rub his shoulder. He tries to deeply breathe the sensations away but it still lingers on.

Harry and Hedwig hear an eerily familiar heavy flap from the direction of his window. Hedwig passes him his glasses. “Thanks,” he says as he crawls out of bed to look out his window. He sees Errol, the Weasley family’s owl, laboriously flying towards the window. Harry reaches his hand out, allowing Errol to weakly drop a package into his hands. Errol lands on Harry’s desk. Hedwig flys over and helps Errol up. The older male owl hoots in exhaustion.

Harry unwraps the package and finds another envelope. He opens the envelope and reads the unscented letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Litha!_

_Mum wanted to make sure that you were filled up with sweet treats this holiday! She baked you a whole batch of lemon lavender biscuits! It’s an old Weasley recipe and we only eat it on this day! It’s bloody good!_

_I told Dad that you gave us your telephone number and he got really excited. He taught me how to dial a telephone number. I can’t wait to call you!_

_I also want to let you know that Ginny is doing a lot better. She’s making friends with Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw girl in her year who lives in our village. She’s sort of odd but as long as Ginny’s happy, I’m happy. Better to be peculiar than to get into more trouble, I suppose._

_Mum, Dad, Percy, Fred, George, and Ginny send their love!_

_\- Ron_

_PS - We should start thinking about coordinating presents for Chara’s birthday. Don’t tell her._

_PPS - Yes, I remember that it’s also your birthday. I’m not telling you anything._

Harry opens the package and finds an infinite count of biscuits. He eats several cookies and soaks up the zestiness that spills onto his taste buds with each bite. His mouth begins to become overwhelmed with the sweetness of each bite and his throat begins to ache for hydration. He closes the two treat packages.

Hedwig flies from his desk and lands on a squeaky floorboard. She attempts to lift it as Harry watches. She hoots to beckon Harry over as she beats her beak against the floorboard. He murmurs a “sorry” as he lifts the floorboard. Both boy and owl discover what appears to be prime storage space.

“Good thinking Hedwig,” praises Harry, “You’re brilliant. Just absolutely brilliant.” He lovingly strokes her feathers and allows her to nibble his fingers. He ties up the Vandever and Weasley packages before placing them under the floor. He goes to this desk, grabs a pen and a piece of paper, and begins writing to Ron:

_Dear Ron,_

_Happy Litha back! Thanks for the biscuits. Tell your mum that they’re amazing!_

_I’m excited to hear your voice on the telephone! Call me as soon as you can! I’m glad to hear that Ginny is doing well._

_Send your family my love!_

_\- Harry_

After sealing it in an envelope, he looks at Errol, who appears to have recovered from his journey. The owl immediately takes the letter from Harry and clumsily takes off. Hedwig skeptically hoots before turning to Harry. “As long as he doesn’t drop the letter, he’ll be fine... right?”

Hedwig lets out another skeptical hoot. Harry takes out another piece of paper and writes a letter to Chara:

_Dear Chara,_

_Happy Litha to you as well! Thanks for the honey cakes. I’ve never had them before. They’re delicious!_

_I’ve been alright since I got back home. The Dursleys are unbearable as usual but there are no bars around my window and Hedwig’s allowed to fly around this time. With your treats (and Ron’s), it’ll make the summer slightly bearable. I can’t wait to go back to Hogwarts._

_I’m sorry that you still have to deal with the Malfoys today. I also just realized that you might not receive this letter until you return home, but I think that we both know by now that you’ll have to deal with them for the rest of the summer. Be extra careful around them. All three of them, really._

_Cakes and Malfoys aside, how are you doing? How’s your Quidditch prep going?_

_Hugs,_

_Harry_

He seals the letter in an envelope and offers it to Hedwig.

“Make sure that Chara gets this when she gets home,” instructs Harry, “I don’t want any of the Malfoys seeing this. She’s already in a weird place with them. Spend all day with Juniper if you have to, alright?”

She worriedly hoots, which he interprets as “Well, what about you Harry?”

“I’ll just… Er… Meditate… and think about things…Happy things... I guess…” he assures her as he strokes the top of her head, “Don’t worry about me, Hedwig, I’ll be fine. Just look out for Chara and make sure she gets the letter in private.”

Hedwig seemingly nods. She nibbles his hardened fingers one last time before she takes the letter and flies away. He waves and faintly smiles as he watches his majestic friend fly away. Deciding to brush his teeth, Harry presses his ear against the door and listens for his relatives. No sign of them. Either they’re already awake, or they’re still sleeping. He grabs his watch from his nightstand: It’s only 05:45 in the morning.

Realizing that it’s too late to go back to sleep but also too early to clean up, Harry opts to follow Chara’s advice. He sits on his bed, closes his eyes, and attempts to clear his mind. He sees a black blank… which slowly transforms into a flaming orange. Faint notes of smoke begin to grow between his nostrils. It comforts him, as he is reminded of the bonfires held during Yule and Beltane at Hogwarts.

☆

_“Aguamenti!”_

A splash of water annihilates the giant orange flame. Chara is only able to see and smell the gray of the crisp wood as the morning sun rays slip through its cracks. The opaque mist is suddenly eradicated. On the other side of the vanishing wall stands Narcissa who sweetly smiles at her. 

“Looks like we’re the only ones that made it through the night as usual,” observes Narcissa. 

“Why is it that it’s always us?” asks Chara. 

She shrugs as they look around the campsite. Katarina, who was sitting against a tree, is sound asleep. Draco, who lets out a soft snore, is wrapped in an elaborate blanket. The silvery blonde hair of Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa’s husband, bobbles in sync with his breathing as he slouches sitting in his sleep. Strangely but unsurprisingly, his right-hand clutches onto his wand. 

“You and I are naturally resilient, it’s in our nature, I suppose,” Narcissa explains as she circles the bonfire site for any signs of a flame. Chara follows her around out of a habit that she’s developed since she was a toddler. For reasons unknown to her, she always felt comfortable imitating and trailing behind her godmother around. Narcissa is extremely aware of Chara’s lifelong habit, but she never comments on it. She likes to think that Chara has taken on her virtue and hopefully not her flaws… at least not the worst of them. 

“I also did pull a few all-nighters at Hogwarts so I think the ability to stay up and alert until dusk is only enhancing my resilience,” says Chara as she spots a lack of glow amongst the dust and ashes. 

“I know, but you shouldn’t push it. Puffy eyes don’t flatter your face,” softly advises her godmother. 

“My eyes aren’t puffy,” Chara says in a childish tone. 

“No, but they were when you arrived back at the station,” insists Narcissa who turns to look at her, “And we both know why they were.” 

_Does she know? Did Lucius tell her? Hold on, how would she know? Only Lucius knows about Harry… or does he also know about me?_

“I know what you did with your friends,” Narcissa quietly states. Images of shed snakeskin, a flying phoenix, and barely dodging falling bricks flash through her head. She shakes off the thoughts as she returns to the evolving scene at hand. 

“You do?” the girl asks in her best attempt at a stoic tone as her godmother nods.

“Despite what you may think, I’m not upset with you,” whispers Narcissa as she gently places a straight hair behind Chara’s ear. 

“You… you’re not?” Chara asks, “Why?” 

“Because I believe that you did the right thing,” explains the blonde woman. 

Chara raises her eyebrow at her godmother who is typically silent whenever her husband spews anti-Muggle sentiments. She attempts to study Narcissa’s face, but she is extremely difficult to read. The young witch wishes in this specific moment that she was a Legilimens. 

“So I’m not in trouble?” asks Chara.

Narcissa shakes her head, “But I can’t guarantee that everyone will be pleased with your actions… but know that I’m on your side, alright?” 

Chara nervously nods. Narcissa brings her into a tight maternal hug.

_I don’t know if Narcissa is telling the truth or if she’s trying to trick me but I’ll go along with it… for now._

☆

After Katarina, Lucius, and Draco manage to rise from their slumber, the Malfoys and Vandevers return back to Malfoy Manor to freshen up for the day. As customary during the holiday season, Chara immerses herself in a flower petal bath. She intentionally breathes slowly and deeply as she permits her body to sink into the bathtub. She carefully shimmies her body in the water to amuse herself and the water levels rhythmically follow her movement. She halts when a blue bruise on her hip captures her attention. She gently pokes at the reminder of the skirmish in the Chamber of Secrets. 

Chara thinks that she could have sustained the bruise from sliding through the pipes that led into the dungeons…. Though she did suffer a nasty tumble in an attempt to avoid being crushed by the rocks from the cave-in that Gilderoy Lockhart, their then-Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, triggered after attempting to use the Memory Charm on them.

_Thank Merlin that he grabbed Ron’s broken wand._

She grabs several petals from the water and allows her fingers to absorb the moisture and fragrance that they provide as she remembers clearing through the accidental barrier with Ron. She so desperately wanted to pull out of her wand and clear the wall herself but Ron was so terrified of another cave-in that he begged her to perform the task manually with him. As they cleared the heavy rocks one-by-one, Chara felt her heart violently convulse and send jolts throughout her body, causing her to drop a rock in physical surprise. Her breathing became notably scattered. Everything felt hazy as her body and the magic within her weakened. Ron was notably worried as he kept yelling “Chara! Chara! Look at me! What’s going on?” If she didn’t know any better, Chara would have said that she was on the verge of her dying… or at least a large part of her was. 

Suddenly, for no reason at all, the convulsions stopped and the jolts disappeared. Her heart began to beat normally and her usual might returned. Her breathing patterns returned to becoming lively and human once more. “What the bloody hell was that?” Ron asked at the time. She had no idea how to answer that question then, and she still has no idea how to answer that question now as she leaves her bath and opts to wear a blue maxi dress with a flattering pair of sandals. 

Exiting her guest room, Chara politely closes the door behind her. As she turns around she comes face to face with her former pretty platinum blonde-haired friend. 

“Chara,” politely acknowledges Draco as he flashes her a faint smile. 

“Draco,” politely acknowledges Chara as she chooses to awkwardly mirror his expression. 

“Shall I escort you to the dining room?” he offers with polite noble courtesy. 

“If you insist,” she replies with aristocratic ambiguity. 

He offers his arm, which she reluctantly takes as they walk down what feels like a never-ending hallway filled with ancestral portraits looking on and seemingly aching to eavesdrop on the pair. 

“I bet Potter can’t do this,” he snidely remarks. 

“That’s the longest you’ve gone without mentioning Harry,” she says, “Quite the record you’ve set for yourself.” 

“You portray me to be obsessed with Potter.” 

“Because you are, Draco.”

“I’m not!” 

“If not Harry, then whom? Me?” 

“No-” 

“-Yourself then?” 

Draco doesn’t respond. Chara cheekily smirks to herself.

For the first time in a while, Draco wisely opts for silence for the rest of the walk through the long halls of magical antiquity. 

Breakfast on this day is full of honey, citrus, and many sweet things with sliced fruits, honey cakes, fruit teas, and pastries all over the table. Despite the sugar lacing her tongue and running through her veins at this very moment, she feels a heavy imbalance in the atmosphere. She feels it specifically in the back of her neck. She stretches it about as a small and presumably young female Elf Apparates into the room to place a few more bowls of honey cakes. 

Katarina, as per usual, analyzes the Elf before the latter Disapparates with a simple snap. Chara envies the Elf’s magical ability to disappear at will with such a simple gesture, but as with anything pertaining to magic abilities, there must be more to the eye than a mere snap. The room is quiet... _Too quiet._

“New House-Elf?” curiously asks Chara’s grandmother. “Promoted,” quickly replies Narcissa. 

“I see. What happened to that other one... Forgive me, I forget his name… Gobby?” 

Chara gulps her water in distress. “Dobby,” politely corrects Draco, “He was for-” 

“-Allow me the pleasure of relaying my own account, Draco,” Lucius cuts in, “I lost him.” 

“What? How?” asks Katarina yet again. Draco excitedly smirks. 

“Two words,” begins Lucius Malfoy, “Harry Potter. He tricked my Elf and liberated him! Without my consent! The audacity of that boy… Him and his parents!” 

“Funny. I knew James Potter,” remarks Katarina, “He and Pomeline went to Hogwarts at the same time. Sorted in the same House… and were both on the Quidditch team too.” 

Aroused by her words, Chara whips her head from her plate to her grandmother, “He was?”, she asks with barely restrained excitement. “Yes,” coolly answers Katarina, “And he was nothing but a little insolent trouble-maker! I’m not at all surprised that Harry inherited that from his father… well, aside from his looks of course.” 

“Ah… Yes. Pomeline Vandever and James Potter" reminisces Lucius with a grimace, “Ran in the same circles from what I could tell. She was always adjacent to his... escapades. Perhaps the apples didn’t fall too far from their respective trees.” 

“But Harry’s not a trouble-maker,” Chara speaks up, “He’s quite the opposite.” 

“You would know, Chara. You only aided him,” says Draco right before sipping his glass of water, triggering Lucius to glare at Chara. Narcissa maintains her usual poker face while Katarina takes a gulp of her orange tea. 

_Here we go._

“I didn’t _aid_ him. In fact, I didn’t make it very far,” clarifies Chara, “The ceiling caved in so I was stuck with Ron and Professor Lockhart. If it didn’t cave in, I would have gladly aided him.”

“So why did Dumbledore announce that you, Potter, and Weasley each received a ‘Special Award for Services to the School’?” insists Draco. 

“For doing the right thing I suppose,” shrugs Chara. 

The elder Malfoy shakes his head, “You Gryffindors and your piousness will always baffle me. Must I once again emphasize the importance of blood purity?” 

“I don’t know,” replies Chara, “Must you?”

“That wasn’t a hypothetical question,” he lectures, “It’s not just in the matters of marriage and procreation that you must mind Muggles and Blood Traitors! It is also in your platonic minglings! It is always rooted in platonic minglings! If you are not careful… you will end up contaminating your bloodline and there is no reversing that! 

I have warned you to mind your ways last year, Chara, and yet you still insist in these perverse ways! Why is that? Hmmm? What exactly do you get out of Granger, Weasley, and Potter? Have you no other friends? You really must improve your social circle this upcoming year! I blame the Sorting Hat! How on earth did you wind up in that damned House?” 

“My daughter was in that damned House,” Katarina steely reminds Lucius. 

“Ah. Yes, and we all know how she fared-” retorts Lucius. 

A violent metallic slam on the table jolts everyone except Narcissa, who carries an icy cold expression as she glares at her husband. Her long curly blonde hair only makes her demeanor all the more terrifying to make eye contact with. “That’s enough coming out of you, Lucius,” she orders as she clenches her fist that is adorned with a jeweled silver bracelet. Narcissa’s husband shrinks at the order and retreats his tongue and pride in defeat. She sweetly smirks at him, “Thank you, dear. Chara is only a girl. It’s perfectly natural for girls to be curious, make questionable decisions, and engage in parlous adventures. Pomeline did the same. I did the same. Girls will be girls and witches will be witches. It’s fine! She’ll be fine like all women have before her!” 

Chara is comforted by her godmother’s words. She still doesn’t know if Narcissa is being genuine but if she’s willing to go against her husband like this… Her earlier words must be genuine… right? 

The same Elf from earlier Apparatates into the dining room. 

“Master Malfoy?” squeaks the Elf. 

“Yes? What is it?” he responds. 

“The Lovegood family has arrived, and as Master Malfoy ordered Nimmy to alert Master Malfoy of the Lovegoods’ arrival -” 

“Alright! Very well then! Excuse us…” 

Lucius, Narcissa, and Draco exit the room. 

“Don’t you think that it’d be a bit hypocritical of me?” Chara wonders aloud. 

“How?” replies Katarina before taking another bite of her food. 

Chara gives her grandmother a nonplussed look, “You don’t think that it’d be hypocritical of me to heed the advice of Lucius Malfoy given-” 

“-I know where you’re going with this discussion,” interrupts Kararina, “And we’re not having this conversation again.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because it doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to everyone else,” urges Chara, “Don’t tell me it doesn’t because it does.” 

Katarina takes in Chara’s stern expression before sighing, “I want you to know that as someone who was present during the first opening of the Chamber of Secrets, I am extremely relieved that someone handled that creature and I am proud of the fact that you were involved in that handling. I know that you want to do the right thing. I respect that you want to do the right thing. I am proud that you pride yourself in doing the right thing and I would never stop you from doing so. You get that tendency from your mother.” 

“Thank you,” says a touched Chara.

“But like your mother you’ve also a penchant for trouble and I’ve seen it manifest within you for two years in a row.” 

“It’s not trouble if I get awarded for it.” 

“If you’re going to join the Quidditch team and maintain your marks, you’ll have to set priorities. You can’t be getting into messes, perform well in class, and perform well in Quidditch all at once. ” 

“Harry’s on the Quidditch team and he does well in class. Fred and George are on the Quidditch team and they get good marks as well.” 

“They’re not my grandchildren. You are.” 

“Well… mum was on the Quidditch team. Mum did well, didn’t she?” 

“She did.” 

“But as Lucius said, she was always adjacent to James Potter, which obviously means that she was somehow involved in his ‘trouble-making'.”

“Which is true but-” Katarina sighs again, “It’s not the same thing, Chara.” 

“Isn’t it?” 

“No, it isn’t. At all. The feats that James Potter and… his cabal pulled off, at least the ones that your mother chose to relate to me, are mere… mischief. Child’s play. The conspiracies that you, Harry, Hermione, and Ron got into have been extremely perilous.” 

“That’s a fair point, but everything we’ve done was for the greater good.”

“Do me a favor Chara.” 

“Of course.” 

“Stay out of trouble this year. If the greater good compels you once more, at least ensure that you’re not playing second fiddle to some boy.” 

“I’m not-” 

“Harry Potter is not the center of the universe!” exclaims Katarina, “You are!” 

Her grandmother recollects herself as she sips her glass. Chara muddles her face as she looks at Katarina. 

“Grandmother, What does that even mean?” 

“What it means!” 

The doors open again. Narcissa, Draco, and Lucius return with a tall and long-haired blonde man and a petite girl with extremely long blonde hair. Both people are dressed eccentrically with bright shades of yellow with unusual textures and patterns. 

“This is my brother-in-law Xenophilius Lovegood,” introduces Lucius, “And my niece Luna.” 

“Hello,” says Katarina. 

“Pleased to meet you,” adds Chara. 

“And this is my goddaughter Chara,” introduces Narcissa, “and her grandmother Katarina Vandever.” 

“Lovely to meet you both as well,” Xenophilius and Luna say in a strange vocal unison of a deep voice and an unusually high-pitched one. The Vandevers give out polite aristocratic smiles while the Lovegoods unleash a feral smile. 

_This is going to be an interesting day._

☆

Harry can’t completely recall what just happened, but all he knows is that he’s better off staying in his room for the rest of the day. As soon as he sets foot in his room, he slams the door shut and barricades it with his desk chair. His hands tremor as he regulates his breathing. He sits on his bed and buries his head in his hands in anguish.

Just a few minutes earlier, Harry was preparing breakfast for his Aunt Petunia and cousin Dudley when he heard his Uncle Vernon screaming, "I DON'T KNOW WHAT SCHOOL YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT! NEVER CONTACT ME AGAIN! DON'T YOU COME NEAR MY FAMILY!"

There are only three people in the world that Vernon would scream those sentences at, and one of them is currently preoccupied. He doesn’t envision Hermione to be the type to ring this early in the morning… which only leaves him with one person: Ron…. sweet summer child Ron. Harry doesn’t blame him at all for the mishap. His frustration ultimately lies with Uncle Vernon, who tried to physically seize and manhandle him in the kitchen.

Uncle Vernon then proceeded to enter the kitchen and scream. Harry was so panic-stricken as he fled his uncle’s wrath that he barely heard what was said. His best guess is that it was related to him giving out their telephone number. The bacon he was prepping for them, he realizes, is probably burning at the moment… _That’s no longer my problem. Let them figure it out for once._

Harry pulls out a photo album that Hagrid gave him a while back. He flips through the pictures, seeing flashes of flaming red hair and messy black hair adorn the pages. He stops at a wedding photo of his parents. His father, James, a chaotically curly jet black-haired man with round glasses, waves at the camera with his arm intertwined with Lily, a flaming red-haired woman with emerald green eyes. They’re absolutely glowing in love with one another as they soon return to being enraptured in the other’s gaze.

Another wedding photo on the next page has his parents standing alongside what appears to be the best man and maid of honor - a handsome man with raven black hair at shoulder length and a beautiful brown-skinned woman of African descent with long and tightly curled hair. Harry guesses that based on the way that the best man and maid of honor are holding one another that they too must be a couple… but his naivety might be getting the best of him once again. All four of them are smiling while waving at the camera.

_I bet Mum’s parents let her talk on the phone with her friends from Hogwarts whenever they rang._

He flips several pages down and sees a photo of his mother, heavily pregnant and wearing a large jumper, playfully interacting with a large black dog as they both sit on a couch. He likes to think that his father took that photo of her.

Harry finally sees himself, pre-scar of course, with his parents. They look so exhausted in their loungewear but oh so entrenched within domestic bliss. It looks like they’re standing in what looks like a nursery… his nursery. Harry sees himself babbling and looking up at both his parents who are more focused on the camera as they carry him.

He imagines himself on this day baking honey cakes and lemon lavender biscuits with his mother. Perhaps his father will take some of the flour and playfully throw it at them. Harry and his mother would throw some flour back in childish retaliation and a food fight would break out within the kitchen. That same black dog from that photo would wander into the kitchen and get caught within the culinary crossfire.

It cheers him up for a brief moment… until he hears a loud BANG on his door.

“If you think that you’ll be eating today you’ve got something else coming!” screams Uncle Vernon from the other side.

As reality sets in once again for Harry, a nasty little lump dominates his throat as his face becomes soaked with the waterfalls that are his tears. Once again, the young wizard silently embraces his sorrows.

_Out of all the families in the world that I could be stuck with, why do I have to be stuck with the Dursleys?_

☆

After an impromptu flower crowning ceremony by Narcissa and Xenophilius, Luna silently beckons Chara to join her on the field outside. They walk barefoot on the grass and take in the clear fresh air as the sun proceeds to shower them with kisses. 

“How is it that we didn’t meet until this morning?” asks Chara. 

“I’m not sure… This is the first time that my father’s accepted an invitation from Uncle Lucius in a while… and we think that Uncle Lucius had been dealing with a Wrackspurt infestation between his ears.” 

“A what?” asks Chara as she knits her eyebrows. 

“Wrackspurts…” repeats Luna, “They're invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy.” 

“Perhaps he has been,” says Chara as she nods, “He has been acting rather silly lately.” 

“So I’ve heard… Wrackspurts do tend to prey upon the vulnerable. I think his infestation started after my mother died.” 

Chara lets out a slight frown, “I’m sorry to hear that, Luna.” 

“Thank you,” replies Luna, “Are your parents dead too?” 

Unfazed by the forwardness of the question, Chara answers with a simple “Yes.” As she answers the question, she feels an unexpected lump in her throat form, which triggers a major crack. It’s not the first time that she’s answered this kind of question but it’s the first time that her body has reacted so strongly. The tear that runs down her own face does not feel like her own. With her own brand of sorrow forming in her eyes, Luna surprise hugs her, which makes them take several steps back. Chara softly accepts the gesture. It’s a long and tight hug. “Would you like to lie down on the grass with me, Chara?” offers Luna. Chara nods. The girls lie on the grass and stare at the sky, which is a bright blue with picturesque white clouds. 

“I like to think that my mum is somewhere amongst the clouds…” says Luna after a few seconds, “Just smiling and watching… She’s not there of course, but I’ve always associated her with them.” 

“I associate mine with the stars,” explains Chara, “ I like to think that wherever I go… be it here, home, or Hogwarts, that they’ll always be there for me. Narcissa helped me think of it that way when I was little… and it just… stuck.” 

“That’s very beautiful, Chara. Is it alright if I ask what happened to your parents?” cautiously asks Luna, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to...” 

“Mum and Dad disappeared during the war when I was a baby. Their bodies were never found… They’re just… gone. War Orphan things… you know?” sorrowfully explains Chara, “Is it alright if I ask you about your mum?” 

“Of course… She loved experimenting with spells. She invented a lot of them, too…. One of her experiments unfortunately backfired and instantly killed her… I was six years old… and I saw the whole thing happen,” slowly explains Luna, prompting Chara to turn over to her new friend in horror.

“Sweet Merlin… that’s terrible… I am so sorry!” 

“Yes… It was quite terrible indeed… Would you like to see what the clouds see in your future?” 

Bewildered, Chara simply nods and returns to lying down on her back to look at the sky. 

“What question would you like to bestow to the clouds?” asks Luna. 

“Hmmm… What will my third year at Hogwarts look like?” Chara asks the clouds. 

The clouds move, Chara leans over and watches Luna’s eyes scatter about as she analyzes the clouds. 

“The clouds say that it’ll be full of surprises and lots of love.” 

“Oh?” wonders Chara, “What kinds of surprises? And what kinds of love?” 

Luna shrugs, “I’m only a messenger for the clouds…. You’re friends with Ron Weasley, right?” 

“Yeah, I am!” 

“I’m friends with Ginny. She told me that you helped save her life…” 

“Did she now?” 

“She did. She also told me that she admires you a lot. You and… Hermione? Did I pronounce her name correctly?” 

“Perfectly, actually,” confirms Chara. 

“Ginny told me that she went through a nasty event last year… Something I won’t say out loud, but it definitely wasn’t Wrackspurts,” says Luna. 

“No,” says Chara, “Not at all” 

“I know that we’re in different years but I feel that if we, by that I mean me, you, and Hermione, spent time together with her, perhaps it’ll help her feel better.” 

Chara actively recalls Ginny staring at her several times over the past year… particularly whenever she was standing next to Harry. The elder of the Gryffindor girls made it a point to never make a fuss of the innocent longings as she knew that she wouldn’t want anyone to confront her either. But as Luna’s words begin to sink inside her mind, a wave of guilt washes over Chara. 

_Perhaps Ginny was staring because she didn’t know how to start a conversation with me… Perhaps if I made it a point to notice Ginny just slightly earlier, none of this nonsense with Tom Riddle would have happened._

The brunette shakes off the contriteness and returns to the conversation at hand. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Luna. I’m sure that Hermione would love to do the same as well.” 

Luna blissfully smiles at the agreement. “Wonderful! She loves receiving letters!” 

“And I love writing them!” 

“Chara?” 

“Yes, Luna?” 

“Is it alright if I wrote to you as well?” 

“I would love that.” 

Several hours later, Chara shares a quiet moment with the stars on the shortest night of the year. Several feet away, she can hear Lucius and Xenophlius co-host a lively conversation while Katarina laughs on. She’s also pretty sure that Draco and Luna are having a philosophical discussion… probably about creatures… or paint. 

“I believe it’s a waxing crescent tonight,” says Narcissa from behind, as she soon joins her in observing the night sky, “Would you like to see my favorite constellations this evening?” 

Chara nods. “Andromeda is above the horizon. It’s not easy to find, but if you look carefully, she’s right there,” points out Narcissa as she begins to raise her head to look around the sky, “Draco is right… there… and…” 

Narcissa scrunches up her face, “You see that small line that’s bordered by Come Berenice, Bootes, and Ursa Major? It’s right below the Big Dipper.” 

“I see it,” answers Chara as she sees the line. 

“That is Canes Venatici. She conceals herself in plain sight, but she’s quite mighty,” says Narcissa as she observes Chara’s semi-withdrawn figure. 

“Do you think my parents are up there right now? Watching I mean?” Chara wonders aloud. Narcissa brings her goddaughter into a side hug, “Of course they are. They always will be… Why? What’s wrong?” 

“Do you think they’re proud of who I am… of what I’ve done? Of the… muck?” asks Chara as she looks at her godmother. Narcissa momentarily looks to the ground and draws up a wistful smile, “Chara, my dear, you have no idea how happy they would be.” 

☆

Several tight hugs and a Floo trip later, Chara finds herself back inside the sanctuary of her room. She is startled by the sight of a snowy owl and a tawny owl nuzzling, hooting, and seemingly jumping up and down like a pair of teenage girls at her desk. Her yelp makes the owls freeze and stares at her for a brief moment before continuing their perceived laughter. As she approaches them, Hedwig grabs an envelope with her beak and hands it to Chara.

“Hi Juniper! Hello again Hedwig!” greets Chara as she takes the envelope, “Lovely to see you again… and lovely to that Harry’s written back already! ”

Hedwig happily hoots as Juniper snuggles her friend.

“I trust you’ve had a lovely Litha yourself?” she asks as she looks around her desk and opens up various drawers.

The owls hoot together.

“Juniper didn’t become too rascally again, did she?”

Hedwig hoots again. Chara chooses to interpret this as a “no”. She pets the snowy owl, who nibbles at her fingers. Juniper nibbles at her other fingers.

“You needn’t worry. I have plenty of affection to go around,” she assures the playfully competitive owls before freeing her hand from their beaks.

The owls watch Chara as she uses a letter opener to slice open the envelope. She carefully opens the letter and reads it. Hedwig and Juniper stare at her and engage in soft gossipy hooting as she reads Harry’s letter.

“Awww,” she coos as she grabs a piece of scented paper from her desk, dips her quill in ink, and writes back:

_Dear Harry,_

_Wonderful to hear back from you so soon!_

_I just came back from Malfoy Manor. Lucius is still sulky about Dobby and Draco was Draco, but it wasn’t all bad. Did you know that your dad and my mum knew each other? They went to school at the same time and they were on the Quidditch team together! From what my grandmother said, it looks like they might have been friends. I like to think that they’d be proud of what we’ve been doing at Hogwarts so far._

_I met Luna Lovegood today. She’s a friend of Ginny’s (who sounds a lot happier now). She’s very fun to be around! I think that you’ll like her. I’ll introduce you to hear when we’re back at Hogwarts…. I just remembered that we have homework. Did you start working on the assignments yet?_

_I’m glad to hear that you liked the honey cakes! How did you spend your Litha?_

_Hugs,_

_Chara_

Chara seals the letter within an envelope and gives it to an eager Hedwig, who nuzzles Juniper one last time before flying away. Juniper hoots her friend goodbye. After placing the letter opener inside of a drawer. She rests her elbow at her desk as she spots an old and framed photo of her mother.

Pomeline Vandever is a brown-skinned Afro-British woman with long and tightly coiled hair. She looks extremely radiant with kind and gentle eyes. She appears to be the epitome of a Muggle expression (courtesy of Hermione Granger) that goes “She’s beauty! She’s grace! She’ll punch you in the face!”

To Chara, Pomeline radiates kindness but there is a glimmer of ballsiness that shines in her eyes. Chara would guess that Pomeline was about sixteen or seventeen years old in this particular photo as the latter is wearing her Hogwarts uniform with her Gryffindor tie slightly loosened. She’s caught in a candid moment, shamelessly laughing and yet somehow still maintaining perfect posture. Chara likes to think that she might have been laughing at a joke unfolding… but perhaps she was instead witnessing James Potter and his “cabal” engaging in their so-called “feats”.

_Whoever took that photo of her has a good eye. I need to find other photos of her._

Without warning, Errol stumbles upon landing on Chara’s desk. He’s careful to not knock over on the photo of Pomeline. He drops a letter and package into Chara’s hands. She immediately spots an envelope rush beneath the ribbon. Sensing that it’s urgent, she unfastens the ribbon and quickly opens the envelope.

He weakly hoots to both greet and apologizes to the girl.

“No need to apologize. Thank you, Errol,” she says to the owl. Juniper and Errol engage in a conversation as Chara begins to pace around the room to read the letter.

_Hi Chara,_

_Happy Litha to you as well!_

_Thanks for the honey cakes. They’re bloody amazing. Mum and Dad wanted me to send you some lemon lavender biscuits!. It’s an old Weasley recipe._

_So, bad news. I tried calling Harry today but his uncle picked up the telephone. He got really cross on the phone. I think I got Harry into trouble… So I think that communicating with him via owl is the best thing to do (I wrote to Hermione about this). Let’s hope that he got our treats._

_\- Ron_

_PS - We should probably start coordinating gifts for Harry’s birthday. Since Lughnasadh is the day after his birthday, we should figure it out before we get engulfed in holiday plans._

_PPS - Don’t worry, I remember that it’ll also be your birthday. But I’m not going to spoil anything. Ha!_

Looking to the heavens which are currently blocked by her ceiling, she openly groans in anguish. She realizes that Errol is staring at her. “Thank you, Errol. I don’t have anything to say at the moment…” Chara says to the elderly owl, “You’re welcome to rest for the night if you’d like.”

Errol takes off. Juniper hoots at him before turning back to Chara.

“Is Ron serious?” she asks Juniper, “Is he actually serious? How is he getting in trouble for using…. What are they called again?” She looks at the letter, “Telephone, right… How does one get in trouble for using a bloody telephone? They appear so… harmless.”

Juniper stretches her wings, which Chara chooses to see in her irate headspace as a shrug. “I suppose it’s a good thing that I didn’t try to acquire a telephone yet. Where would one even find one? I suppose Mr. Weasley easily got his hands on one, working with Muggle objects and all…”

She pets her tawny owl as the latter coos away. “I’m alright with sticking with letters… At least we know he’s getting them this time. If they put bars on his window again, I swear to Godric that I’ll go get him myself.” 

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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